Voyeurism
by Remy'sRose
Summary: Remy has a bad day. Rogue finds herself all alone in the mansion that night, or so she thinks. ROMY! Oneshot. Remy's POV. I have had requests to continue this If you think I should I'll change it into a series of stories in the same vein. Let me know


**I watched Dirty Dancing earlier and an idea formed.**

**I don't own these characters, Marvel does.**

**voy·eur voy yúr, vw yúr**

**(plural voy·eurs) **

**n **

**1. somebody who watches for sexual pleasure: somebody who is sexually excited by looking, especially secretly, at other people's naked bodies or the sexual acts in which they participate**

Remy Le Beau was having a bad day. Which was a surprise in itself; he usually didn't have bad days. It started first thing in the morning, having to wake up at an ungodly hour for one of Wolverine's grueling training sessions; he tried to make the best of it and turned a little charm on his _chéri doux_ Rogue- but she sent him into the wall with her newly acquired super strength. He thought they had been making progress but she was in one of those moods again. Then he had to listen to that idiot Summers lecture him for nearly twenty minutes about staying focused on the battlefield. Being team leader had definitely gone to one-eye's head, especially with the Professor away on Muir Island. Rogue hadn't even glanced at him as she left the room. By the time he had gotten away from the Danger Room, nearly everyone was gone, Rogue included, although no one knew where she had gone. She had already graduated high school and usually disappeared during the day. Before he could leave to track down his Rogue, Logan found him with a list of chores that would take him all day to complete. Weaving a tapestry of colorful French explanatives long enough to cover the Hudson River, he finished all of the chores by late afternoon. He was dismayed to see that although most of the residents of the mansion had returned by then, his joli chéri had not.

It was Kitty's turn to cook that evening and he figured that he should help her since he was rather hungry and wanted something edible for dinner. Rogue was not back for dinner. Remy pushed his food about his plate, eating very little and only half- listening to the plans for the night-hike Ororo and Hank were taking most of the students on. Scott and Jean headed out for a date, waving as they passed through, making Remy miss Rogue even more. After dinner was cleaned up, Piotr and Kitty headed out to an art show in Manhattan. Remy scowled at the dishes in the sink and decided to go out. He went to a few bars and clubs but his mood didn't improve; although he got quite a few stares, phone numbers and offers, he wasn't in a good mood. He went back early, it was only 8:00 and he got back to the mansion at soon after. He passed Logan on his Harley on the way through the gate and felt even worse knowing that the hirsute little man would likely have a good time that night. But if Logan was leaving, who was back at the mansion? Everyone was out and it was never to be left alone. Remy smirked to himself; Scott and Jean's date was probably over already. Parking his own bike in the garage, Remy made his way to the house. He looked through the kitchen window and stopped in his tracks. His chere was home- washing the dishes he left. Her back was to him and he saw that she had her i-pod on a dock in the kitchen. He could hear Gwen Stefani coming through the open window and for a moment, he just watched the Southern Belle from outside.

He smiled as he saw her start to sway to the music, her hips swaying to the beat and he settled behind a bush to watch her. She was all alone, or so she thought and her movements became bolder as she danced. Her hands and arms moved with the rest of her as she finally finished with the dishes and another song came on. Rogue sashayed out of the kitchen and into the laundry room; Remy silently shifted to that window and watched her load a large pile of dark clothing into the washing machine. The loud music could still be heard from the kitchen so her hips still swayed it time with the beat and Remy's heart nearly stopped as she lifted the black shirt she wore over her head and tossed it in the machine. Her dark jeans soon followed and Remy forgot to breathe as he watched her dance in only her lacy, black bra and panties.

A slow, sultry song began and he watched as her movements become more erotic; he never wanted to be a fucking wall so much in his life when he saw her arch against it and lean into it as she danced. Her eyes were closed; her hands began to run over her curves, her head tilted back, exposing her lily-white neck. With one hand over her head, holding onto the door frame, she bent her knees and ground back against the frame. She slid down to the floor and slowly up again, her hips back and Remy gripped the window sill as her backside rubbed against the frame the whole time. He couldn't stand it any longer. He was in through the window and approaching her; her eyes were still closed, absorbing the music.

He moved stealthily toward her but stopped a few feet away. She was barely covered and she would probably send him through the wall if he came upon her now. He looked back at the piles of clothes and spotted her freshly laundered sheets on top of the dryer. He knew Rogue used sheets with high thread counts, having to avoid contact with others made her lean toward the softest materials. Within moments, he had the sheet unfolded and between them as he stood before her.

Her green eyes flew open when she felt the sheet against her skin and the heat of his body behind it. Her pale cheeks flushed red as she gazed up at him, caught in her act and her heart nearly beating out of her chest.

"Don' stop, _chere_," he whispered huskily. "Dance wit' me."

For a clock tick, she stared into his eyes, then her arms, covered with the sheet went around his neck and her red lips curled into a smile. His hands found her hips through the sheet and their bodies moved in unison with the music. Emboldened by the sheet separating them, and lost in their own feelings of want, their movements became more erotic, grinding their hips into each other. His hand slid down her thigh and pulled one of her legs up around his waist and as he supported her, he rolled his hips in between her, slowly, rhythmically.

She moaned his name and he pressed her against the wall, the music forgotten and ground his hips into hers. He whispered her name, told her how much he wanted her and her eyes told him she felt the same. His lips neared hers . . . then there was the sudden and horribly disappointing sound of the front gates opening. Remy stepped back, incredibly reluctant and looked out the window. Scott's red convertible pulled up in the drive way. Remy looked back at Rogue, who had wrapped herself up in the sheet.

"C'mon, swamp rat," Rogue gave him a wink and headed out the door. "Let's see what else we can do with this sheet."

Remy stared after her for a moment, wondering if he were dreaming.

"Unless," she poked her head back around the doorframe. "Y'd just rather watch."


End file.
